What If I Had

ten - the truth

*author's note: thank you so much for your support, glad to see you're enjoying it just as much as me writing it.
p.s. new chapter every friday*

Mom knocked on my bedroom door, interrupting me in the middle of my biology homework. "Sweetpea? Mrs Smith and her father are downstairs. They wanted to talk to you about your... um, attempt."

I wasn't at all happy to hear that name: Mrs Smith.

What Rick had done and said to me has really stuck with me these past few weeks but now that he's here with his daughter, I'm completely unprepared for what he might've told her or the reason why they're both here, requesting me.

Ever since Rick's warning, I haven't dreamt about Mickey, not once. I don't know what exactly Rick saw but it sure did scare the hell out of him.

Reluctantly, I got up, quickly changed out of my Saturday morning pajamas and into a white button-down and blue jeans.

There they were. Patiently waiting there on the couch beside Pancakes. I softly exhaled before cautiously walking down the steps. When Rick saw me coming, he almost literally jumped up onto his feet.

"Hello, Gwendolyn." Mrs Smith smiles, not cheerily but sympathetically.

"I'd like to talk to you about... what happened to you last month. On my father's behalf, I'd like to apologize for having you go thr---"

I thought it was most necessary to stop her from continuing an unnecessary apology. "No, no, you shouldn't be doing this because of what I did to myself. I should've come to you to tell you that none of this was Rick's fault but I was pretty much under house arrest. Please don't blame yourself..."

I turn to Rick. "... neither of you."

Mrs Smith nodded. "We came to settle the tension. We just want for you to be happy, Gwendolyn, and for you to come spend some time with us again because we absolutely miss having you around."

Somehow I doubt that...

"This does mean a lot to me, Mrs Smith. Thank you both for coming over." It's only now that I realize Rick has had his eyes to his feet this entire time, aside from when we first saw each other at the stairs.

I'm guessing he was here to apologize also but he was utterly silent. If it had been only him arriving to talk to me, I would bet I hear a pin drop from upstairs.

They left, leaving the lingering awkwardness of Rick behind with me. Why was he acting like this all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong? What did he see inside my head?

What did he see inside my head?
What did he see inside my head?
What did he see inside my head?

I wanted answers and I wanted them now. I'm not spending another night frightened to fall asleep again.

Planning everything out bit by bit, I called Summer up from the rotary phone in my room. She answers after four rings. "Hey, wanna do something this weekend?"

"Oh, I thought you were still busy ignoring me."

I sigh, covering up the receiver, before sincerely apologizing to Summer. It took some time but we talked things out together. One thing came to another and now we're friends again, I don't know if it'll be so easy with Morty though.

So the date was set. Sleepover at her house tonight at 7.

The time flew by so fast that it didn't even feel like the whole day passed me by. I had spent my day catching up with the homework I had procrastinated to the very last minute.

I finished that book I was reading too.

Mom and Dad, finally allowing me to speak to the Smiths again, kissed me goodbye and off I went. With a duffle bag full of clothing and junk food and magazines, I looked both ways before darting across the road.

The sun was setting, casting a gorgeous orange glow overhead. Avoiding stepping anywhere near the garage door, I enter through the back gate and into the backyard where I find Summer on the bench just gazing at the sunset. We end up talking late till Mrs Smith called us in for dinner.

Things settled down in the house after that. Summer's Mom and Dad were in the dining room, conversing while they cleaned up, and Morty....

Well, I only assumed he was with his grandfather.

Rick. That bastard.

I needed to talk to him. Desperately.

While Summer set things up in her room, now hurrying off to the bathroom to brush her teeth, I left towards the garage. I really didn't care enough to knock so I just barged in. To my surprise, the door wasn't locked.

"Rick..." his back faced me, unphased by my presence. "What did you see?"

He sighed heavily before taking one long pause. "Leave. Do whatever girly shit you do with my granddaughter, just leave me alone."

"I would've, asshole." I scoffed. "If you hadn't been a dramatic dumbfuck--"

"Look who's talking. You shoved me into my valuable junk, you could've made me break somethi--"

"Speaking of 'valuable junk'," I say, pointing past Rick to the shelf adjacent to him. "Wanna fully explain to me what exactly all that shit is? Preferably without an attitude."

Suddenly, causing me to jump, he slams a fist down on the table before finally turning around to face me. "You are such a little shit, aren't ya? Yo-you can't keep your mouth shut for a fraction of a millisecond w-without---"

Rick's moistened cheeks glistened underneath the fluorescent light above.

His voice cracked halfway through and he just stopped mid-sentence, wiping his coat sleeve at his eyes. "Do you really want to know, Gwendolyn?" I was reluctant to agree so quickly to his offer. I do not know what it was in me that scared me into making me hesitant about hearing the truth.

Maybe it was because I've never seen Rick like this before... but, it genuinely scared me.

Shaking the feeling off, I sat down on the countertop, ready to hear the long-awaited explanation fully.

"D-Dad?" Mrs Smith called out from behind the closed entrance. "Could you come out for a second? We've got to talk."

Rick and I share sympathetic eye contact for what felt like decades without it being the least bit awkward, rather it felt more understanding, albeit comforting.

Mrs Smith knocked at the door again.

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, "Yeah, I-I'm coming, sweetpea." is all he says to his daughter before leaving me confused and incomplete, all alone in the garage by myself.

I....

I don't know what to think anymore.

I really don't know what to tell you.